Consorts of Master Holmes
by darkrose45
Summary: AU where vampires are nobles in modern times and own people. John wakes up in a strange room, chained to a bed to be told he will become a consort to Master Sherlock Holmes. He starts out hating it but, as time goes on, he learns to like it.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Sherlock.**

John groaned as he woke, his head pounding. His eyes flickered open and his body started to work again. There were three things he noticed. One, he was chained to a bed. Two, this was not his room. Three, it was freezing. He shivered and looked around the room. There was a simple desk and dresser shoved into the other corners of the room. A door was right in front of hi, teasing. He wiggled his way down the bed, trying to figure out how far he could go. He could only go halfway down the bed. He tried to get up but, more chains were around his ankles, shackles embedded in the mattress. He cursed and sat, listening and waiting.

The door opened an hour later, a tiny and slender boy slinking in. A tray was in his frail arms. He carried it over to John, his brown eyes cast down. "Thank you." John said, taking the tray. The boy nodded and slipped out. John ate the piece of bread and sipped at the plain tea. The boy came back in five minutes and took the tray.

"The master will be in soon." He whispered to John. This made the man shudder. Only Bloodlets said that. Bloodlets were the subjects to the vampire nobles that started to appear a few years ago. Some say they had more pull in the government then anyone. The Bloodlet scurried out. John waited for this master.

Twenty minutes later, the door swung open gracefully. A tall, thin, beautiful man stepped in. His hair was dark and curly, the curls barely brushing his shoulders. His face was all angles and sharpness. His cheekbones were unbelievable, his eyes a swirling pool of blues, greens and, grays. He wore a three-piece suit that fit him wonderfully. "Hello." the master rumbled in his deep voice. John dipped his head to the man. "I expect my subjects to greet me verbally." the master snapped.

"Hello sir." John forced out, his eyes narrowing. The master smirked.

"Good." He praised, stepping into the room more. His left foot kicked out and shut the door. "Now, your name?" The master asked, cocking his head.

"John Watson." John replied. The master nodded and stood so he loomed over John. "Your's?" John asked, a tiny sneer dragging at his lips.

"To you, Master." The master replied coldly. "To the other vampires, Sherlock." He shrugged and fixed his swirling eyes on John. "I hope you know why you're here." He said,flicking a hand.

"To be used as dinner I suppose." John shrugged, tugging at the chains on his wrists. Sherlock laughed.

"No, not that. My Bloodlets are that." He waved a hand. "No, you're here to become one of my consorts." Sherlock's eyes became cold again. "I've had one of my Bloodlets follow you for about a month you seem to be perfect for it." Sherlock had this grin on his face that made John want to vomit.

"I will not!" John snapped, fury building in him. How dare this vampire kidnap him and chain him up! Sherlock laughed again.

"Oh but you see, you have no choice. You are in my house, under my protection. See?" Sherlock held out a paper, one with the royal seal on it. John read it, cursing at each line. It said that Sherlock had been granted custody of John as a servant. John sighed angrily and shut his eyes. "So you see, you have too." Sherlock added, rolling up the paper. "being a consort is not that bad. You will do as I wish, night or day. You will not be fed blood but, I will most likely feed upon you during our activities." Sherlock told him, gesturing randomly with his hands. "Will send in my Head Consort to tell you more." Sherlock left the room and snapped the door tight. John sighed again.

A man with short, graying hair came in. "My name is Greg Lestrade. I'm Head Consort at the Holmes Manor." The man bowed to John. "You are?" He asked.

"John Watson." John replied, holding out a shackled hand. Greg shook it quickly before stepping back. "Master sent me to teach you all about being his consort." Greg yanked the desk chair over.

"Yeaa, about that, is there any way I could get out of it?" John asked, ringing his hands. Greg laughed at him.

"No! Master has had the rights to you signed over to him. There is no possible way to get out of being a consort! Not all bad though, you could be a Bloodlet, poor things. Reason they're all so thin is that they have their blood drained out every couple months. Master has them on blood rotation so he has a constant supply." Greg explained, his eyes sad as he talked about the Bloodlets. "They're fed wonderfully but, it never goes to their weight. only enough to keep them alive." Greg sighed.

"Sounds awful." John shuddered at the thought of being a walking skeleton like the Bloodlets.

"Yes well, they choose it." Greg shrugged. "Now, to being a consort. You must know the basics. First off, he is Master, no matter what. even in the heat of the moment he is Master. Say anything else and you will be beat." Greg warned, his eyes flashing. John nodded and clasped his hands together. "Second thing, you are there to pleasure Master, not yourself, do not whine if you do not get off. He doesn't care. Side note, he likes to go multiple rounds so ,you'll usually get off." Greg winked, it almost made John vomit.

"Third, Master cares for his consorts. He will ask you many times if what he's doing is okay. If it is not, he will not beat you. He is not like all the other Nobles. But, he will not take no if he asks for blood. That is his." Greg tapped his neck, John could see two pinpoint scars on it. "Do not, I repeat, do not take offers from other Nobles when he takes you out. That means you do not like Master and wish to leave. That is treason in the Noble world. With that, Master loves to show us off to the other Nobles. They all do. He will drag you out and expects you to play nice with the other Nobles and consorts. Not too nice though. Speak only when spoken too, stand behind Master and except food and drinks Master hands to you." Greg paused.

"This is a lot." John muttered. Greg laughed.

"Do not worry, it is easy to remember." Greg waved a hand. "Lastly, there is one other consort in the Holmes Manor, Molly. You are not to go anywhere near her. She is Master's special consort, reserved special times. Got it?" Greg's voice was an ice shard, piercing at John. The man nodded. "Good. A Bloodlet will be in to move to the consort hall." Greg left John. John waited, he was getting good at it.

A Bloodleet came in an hour later, a girl this time. Her red hair was cut very short, her dress hanging off of her. She undid his shackles and drug him to the other side of the manor to a short hallway. She showed him the second room on the left. She left without a single word. The room was tiny, a small bed, dresser and desk. He sat on his bed and saw there was no door to his room. Greg's head poked in.

"Why don't I have a door?" John cried, jumping up. Greg held his hands out.

"Master doesn't believe in privacy for his subjects. Especially his consorts." Greg explained. John wanted to punch the wall. "You'll get use to it I'm sure." Greg shrugged, opening the dresser. "There are clothes in here for you. Get dressed, Master has called us for dinner." Greg walked out to go to his room. Great, thought John as he pulled out simple jeans and a cream jumper. Dinner with my captive, fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg led John through the manor, walking slow enough so that John could gap at the beauty of it. The ceilings were vaulted and held up by study wooden beams. On the pale colored walls were ornate paintings and wall sculptures. "Master loves the arts." Greg explained as they past an old statue, it looked of Greek origins. Greg opened two large, fancy doors to reveal a long, oak table with platters splayed out. Sherlock sat at one end, two long fingers holding a cigarette between them. Greg bowed and john followed suit. "Hello Master." Greg greeted, his eyes down. John did the same.

"Come and sit." Sherlock waved a hand and the two consorts moved to their master's side. Greg sat down at Sherlock's left, John sat next to Greg. Sherlock took a drag and blew out perfect smoke rings into the air above. John wanted to curl his lips up at the bad habit but, he did not for the fear of being hit was far greater. He followed Greg's lead and only took a few things from the platter although he was starving. Sherlock watched his two consorts eat in silence as he smoke, his full lips quirked when they were not wrapped around a cigarette. John did not take anymore then Greg did, two pieces of bread, a piece of chicken and a scoop of rice and vegetables. A small goblet of water was set already for them.

"Tell me, John, was it that you use to do?" Sherlock leaned on his left hand, the one without a cigarette. John swallowed the bite of rice and wiped his mouth before answering.

"I was a doctor at one of the clinics in London." John replied. Sherlock nodded and smiled.

"I see. Greg worked for Scotland Yard before I took him in many years ago, isn't that right Greg?" Sherlock's gaze swung to his Head Consort. Greg nodded as he swallowed.

"Yes indeed it is, took me right from a case he did. Snatched me up and brought me here. Worried the Yard sick. Of course, the Nobles were very hush hush then, couldn't tell the family, let them think I was good and gone. Till a few years ago of course, when the Nobles showed themselves. Family was mighty happy to see me alive and kicking." Greg smiled sadly as he spoke. John wondered about his own family. What will Harry think, he wondered, poor her, never to know where I've gone off to.

The three men sat in silence as the consorts finished their meal. Once done, Sherlock crooked his finger at Greg, a sneer pulling at his full lips. Greg stood and followed his master out of the room. john stood and went to find his way back to his room.

John was hopelessly lost. After thirty minutes of wandering about the manor, he had no idea where he was. The hall was dark, only torches on the walls lit the space. Oil paintings hung on the walls, the torches casting odd shadows on the paintings. He had pulled into himself, his eyes sweeping with each step. He heard voices in one of the rooms, something he hadn't heard in ages. He moved swiftly to the door, seeing it was cracked just a bit, peered in.

He saw it was dark in the room, two candles the only sources of light. He saw the curly haired head of his master and the silvered one of Greg. He heard Sherlock moan and stood rigid. Oh. He thought, pulling away from the door. A deep blush crawled up his body, his ears burning bright.

"I can smell you." Sherlock called out, his voice airy. john went still again. "Enter." Sherlock commanded, the authority dripping down his words. John nudged the door open and stepped into the door frame. Sherlock was sitting on Greg's middle, their members erect and weeping. Two of Sherlock's fingers were pressed to Greg's neck, the man's eyes were closed in bliss. John could see in the dim light liquid dripping off Sherlock's chin and beading on his chest. Gross, John thought, bile rising in his throat.

"i-I'm sorry Master, I got lost looking for my room." John stammered, his eyes cast down. Sherlock made a humming like noise.

"I see. No harm done in that. Let me caution you though, do not spy on me. It will not end well for you." Sherlock warned, his voice low. John nodded quickly, desperate to leave. "Leave." Sherlock waved a dismissive hand and turned back to his other consort. He leaned down and latched onto his neck. Greg purred underneath his master. John hurried out after that and shut the door.

After an hour of searching, John found his room. He fell onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes shutting. Images from earlier kept playing, making him shudder. Stop it brain! He forced his eyes open and stripped himself of his clothes and laid in bed. He listened to the Bloodlets scurry about the manor, none speaking or making a sound. He wondered why the didn't speak between one another. Maybe Master didn't allow it, or, maybe some of them couldn't speak. John had heard that Bloodlets were the babies that mother's left on doorsteps. Those who didn't want the child gave them up to the vampires to kill or make into Bloodlets. Either way ended in a terrible death.

A while after, he watched Greg stumble to his room, the man was weak, his eyes blurred. He frowned at this. Is that what feeding does? He wondered about this for hours, worrying about himself. Late in the night, more of the wee morning actually, he saw a red haired woman dart by, she wore nothing but a thin strip of cloth around her breasts. John's last thought was if that was Molly.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days past until John saw Sherlock again. During that time, Greg had been teaching him more about being a consort. They mocked what he was to do during social outings and how his voice would sound. Confident but still humble, Greg instructed. It was extremely hard to do but, John got it down. He and Greg talked about their lives before, John loved to talk about his time as a doctor, no matter how short of a time it was. Greg loved to listen to the other man's stories, laughing and smiling at them.

"If only we could go to the pub." John sighed the second day. Greg had to agree with him.

"Yeah, it would be nice. We can only go out with Master though, the bloodlets are sent out for the groceries." Greg sighed and looked out the window. Rain streaked down it, a spring rain. John opened the window a little, just enough for the smell of rain to drift in, swirl around them and escape. "I've missed that smell." Greg whispered, his eyes shut as he inhaled it. John had to agree with the older man. He may have only been there two weeks or so but, he did miss the outside world. He longed for it each night before he fell asleep, his brain replaying every memory he had. His window was the only thing connecting to the free humans.

On the third day, John was called from his room where he was reading a James Patterson book to Sherlock's drawing room. John dressed quickly in jeans and a jumper and moved swiftly through the house. That day of wandering had given him a pretty good map of the manor. The drawing room was on level one, in hallway four, on the left side, third door on the right. He knocked before entering. He bowed to Sherlock and greeted him.

"Come in." Sherlock waved a hand to a chair and John sat. The Noble turned in his chair to face his consort. "Good afternoon John." Sherlock greeted, folding his slender hands together. John dipped his head. "Tomorrow I have to suffer through another one of Sir Welshner's dinners and I need a consort to accompany me." The Noble pulled his folded hands so they were tucked under his chin. John felt the dread fill him. "I was thinking that consort would be you. It would be quite easy for you." Sherlock suggested, pulling his eyebrows down. John thought for a moment. "Plus, you have no choice anyways. We'll be leaving at six sharp." Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. John stood, bowed and walked out.

Greg was in John's room, waiting for him. "What did Master want?" Greg asked as soon as John entered. John sat on his bed and sighed.

"I'm his consort for a dinner tomorrow." John told his friend. Greg looked surprised.

"Really? He usually waits a few months before doing that." Greg muttered to himself, his brows furrowed. "Who's dinner?" He asked, spinning around to face John.

"Sir Welshner." John replied. Greg smiled.

"Perfect! Welshner is an easy dinner. You sit and eat the food Master "drops". He hates Welshner's food." Greg grinned. John couldn't see a good side about this. He was still a consort to a Noble and was going to be showboated around the next evening. Greg was babbling like the mother of the bride, he was whirling around John's tiny room, grabbing dark jeans and a dark red jumper he didn't know he had and laid them on the desk. "where those to it." Greg instructed. John saluted and Greg chuckled.

"Greg-" John's voice halted the other man. Greg turned to look at him, noticing a strange look on John's face. He went over to him and placed a hand on the newer consort's shoulder. "Will it be bad?" John whispered. Greg thought for a moment then shook his head.

"No, not at all. It'll be a shock for sure but bad, no. Master will try his hardest to make you fell comfortable. If you don't at any time, signal Master and he'll have you out in no time. He is not like the others, John. Master is kind. You will see that tomorrow night." Greg informed him, his eyes taking a certain look to them. John nodded nervously. "Now, let's go practice for tomorrow." Greg stood and walked to his room. John had no choice but to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day John was a bundle of nerves. Greg had helped him last night, teaching him how to sit prefect and what to do. The next morning he woke with a pile of dread building in him. He sat with Greg and ate their breakfast of eggs and toast with jam. Greg was excited for his friend, John wished he could say the same. He wanted nothing more then to crawl under his blankets and hide there for the rest of the day but, Greg wasn't having it. He somehow got them a pass to go outside in the rare sunshine.

"Come on now John, try to relax." Greg huffed at his friend as he kicked the ball over. John trapped it with his right foot and sighed.

"I know what you're doing Greg and it won't work. This isn't getting my mind off tonight." John kicked it back to Greg. The Head Consort snorted.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Greg feigned hurt, his eyes lit. John laughed and ducked as the ball came flying at him. "Sorry." Greg called at John retreating back. John pushed around in the bushes for the ball, rose thorns tugging at him. He kicked it backwards at Greg. He hustled back and the two kicked the ball back and forth till lunch.

As the sun started to fall downward, John got ready. He showered for a long time, his combed his short hair and took his time pulling his clothes on. Greg came in and fussed over him till it was almost time for John to leave. "Good luck." Greg whispered. John nodded to him and left his room. He walked calmly to the front of the manor, where Sherlock stood. He was in another suit, this one dark blue with faint pinstripes. His pale hands were clasped in front of him, his curls still a mess. John bowed to him quickly and greeted him. Sherlock waved his hand.

"None of that right now. Come." He held his arm out, intending John to take it. John stepped forward and took his Master's arm. Sherlock nodded and they stepped out into the cool night and into a dark car. Once both men were seated, the car took off. The drive was quite, the only sounds were of breathing and the outside world.

The car stopped at a large manor with a circle drive and large fencing around it. Sherlock opened the door and swept his hand out, motioning for John to exit. As John exited, Sherlock held an arm out, John took it. Sherlock led him up the drive to the few steps. The yard was green and sprawling for London, clusters of flowers and a few trees scattered decorated the lawn. "Sir Welshner loves to have the most exotic plants in his lawn." Sherlock commented, nodding his head to a few of the flowers. The tall Noble grabbed a lion knocker and rapped it on the door twice. An young butler answered the door. He bowed gracefully to Sherlock and held his hand out. Sherlock handed off his long coat, his eyes darting to John. Realizing he had to give up his coat, John did so. The butler swept a hand and the two stepped in. The butler went to the left and Sherlock led John to the right.

"Ah! Lord Holmes, welcome!" A larger Noble cried from a crowd of Nobles. John could tell the consorts from the Nobles, by the dress and the look in their eyes. Most Nobles looked mostly human, their skin was a few shades paler though, only their teeth could really give them away, and the whole no heartbeat thing. John always saw this strange glint in a Noble's eyes, one that shined in their dark pupil. The consorts stood behind their Nobles, their heads ducked, eyes cast down, they were like pets. John startled to see his Master had moved. He scurried over to him and took his spot behind him.

"This is John Watson, my newest consort." Sherlock boasted to the Nobles. John picked his head up to bow to the Nobles. Sherlock shot him a look and John greeted them verbally. The Nobles purred and doted over him, the women especially.

"Oh he's so cute Lord Holmes!" One dark haired Noble woman purred, her long fingers twitching near his face, John felt the terror well in him, he shot a panicked look to Sherlock who understood. Sherlock hooked his arm through John's and tugged him back softly. The Noble woman looked to Sherlock, confused.

"Sorry Mistress Lillywood, John doesn't like people touching his face." Sherlock sighed, his eyes sad. John felt a spark in his chest, Sherlock, the Noble, lied for his well being. Mistress Lillywood sighed and snapped for her consort, a twig of a man with short cropped brown hair. Her long fingers stroked over his face before going over to the next Noble. Sherlock's eyes drifted down to his consort. "I trust Greg told you I would care for you?" Sherlock whispered. John nodded. "And I will. Mistress Lillywood doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself." Sherlock sneered at the thin woman, making John smirk.

"Master Holmes!" Another Noble greeted, this one an older man with a well cared for mustache and a Noble woman on his arm, no consort for either. John bowed to them and greeted them verbally. He took the time to look around the large room,his mind taking notes of all the consorts. He saw married Noble couples with consorts trailing both of them. Strange, he thought, that married couples still needed consorts. He shrugged it off, mostly because Sherlock was on the move once again.

"Ah. Mistress Weston, always a pleasure." Sherlock purred, kissing the Noble's hand. The older Noble blushed and shushed Sherlock. The curly haired Noble stood and shook hands with Sir Weston, both muttering about some deal made by them a few months ago.

"Who is this little one?" Mistress Weston asked, peering at John. The consort startled, his blue eyes big before looking down at his shoes. Sherlock cleared his throat, signaling John forward. John did as told and stepped forward more.

"This is my newest consort, John Watson." Sherlock introduced him, john bowed and greeted verbally, like clockwork. Mistress Weston flicked her pale green eyes at Sherlock.

"still taking in consorts are you?" She questioned, john could hear her disappointment. Sherlock blushed a little, looking down a bit. Sherlock, embarrassed? This couldn't be true.

"Well, yes." Sherlock stammered out, his long fingers knotting. Mistress Weston clucked her tongue.

"Sherlock, why haven;t you found a mate yet?" She sighed, her eyes sad. Sherlock shrugged. "Sherlock.." She sighed again.

"It's not my fault Mistress Weston, the young Noble women are idiots." Sherlock huffed, his slender arms crossing.

"I never said they had to be female, dear." Mistress Weston pointed out. Sherlock still didn't answer. "You think we don't notice all your consorts are male? Cause we do, hon. None of us care, you know, Sir Ford has a male mate." Mistress Weston tried to encourage Sherlock but, the Noble wasn't having it, he had spaced her out.

"Dinner is being served." Sir Welshner called out. The Nobles moved into another room with an extremely long oak table in the center. Bloodlets stood at the side, trays in their weak arms. Sherlock took a seat next to a young Nobleman near the end of the table and pointed next to him. John knelt next to his master. the Nobleman next to Sherlock had a female consort, she was pretty with blue dyed hair. John nodded to her and she flashed him a quick smile.

Over the course of the next two hours, the two played tic-tac-toe on the floor and mouthed their names to each other. Her name was Ashley. Sherlock "dropped" two pieces of bread, a strip of ham and, a few pieces of potato. john ate them slowly, even giving a piece of bread to Ashley. she thanked him by bowing. He smiled at her.

When the Nobles were too full and sick of hearing each other's voices, they started to leave. Sherlock tapped his head and John stood with him. They went around and said good-bye to the other Nobles, chatting with Mistress Weston some more before she let them loose. Their car pulled up and drove them back to the manor.

"So, what did you think?" Sherlock asked on the ride home. John thought for a long moment before answering.

"It was interesting." John answered, he felt confident with that. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

That's all? Interesting? Nothing else?" He asked, looking to his consort. John shook his head. "I see." Sherlock folded his hands together.

When they arrived home, Sherlock relieved John to his room for the night. John fell onto his bed with a sigh and fell asleep instantly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for the support, it has made writing this much easier. **

Of course when John woke, Greg demanded the details of his first outing. He snorted when he heard about Mistress Lillywood. "She loves to touch faces, boast that she can sense a good consort that way." Greg rolled his eyes at his own words. "She can't of course. Even children know the Nobles don't have extra powers." Greg scoffed, his voice cold. "But see?! I told you Master takes care of us." Greg grinned and hit John's chest, making the smaller man grumble.

"I was wary of it but, I'm glad Master helped. I might have panicked and smacked her hand away." John told his friend, a tiny smile on his face. Greg's mouth opened in horror. "I didn't, of course." John quickly stated, waving his hands. Greg laughed loudly. John tilted his head.

"Oh how funny it would be to see you smack away the hand of a Noble!" Greg laughed out, his face turning red. John chuckled a bit himself, the image popping up in his head. A knock came on the door frame, making both men spin around. A Bloodlet held a tray in her arms, a tiny cry escaping her lips. John leaped up to help her.

"Let me." He took the tray from her and set it on his desk. He turned to thank her but, she had slipped away, a ghost. John huffed and sat down next to Greg. The other man was already tucking into breakfast, plates of eggs, bacon and toast with, of course, jam. John grinned and picked up his plates. "Why do they do that?" He asked, his blue eyes flicking towards the door. Greg looked up, a swipe of jam smeared on his face.

"Do what?" He asked, rubbing his thumb at the jam. John crunched through a piece of bacon before answering.

"The Bloodlets. They just, do what they do." John couldn't figure out how to put it to words. Greg nodded like he understood.

"Because, they wish to please their Lord. Master is everything to the Bloodlets, they will serve him till they die, as do we." Greg shrugged, slurping up some eggs. John winced at the sound.

"But why?" John urged, truly wishing to know. Greg sighed and set his fork down.

"When a person wishes to become a Bloodlet or, become a Bloodlet, they must take a vow. They must vow to serve their Lord till the end of their days, no matter what they ask. Some, for the Nobles enriched by factories and such are workers, cutting costs for the Noble. If the Noble is born into money, such as Master, they are usually servants to the Manor. They are like the slaves of olden times but, they choose this life, most of them. a lot are from the Church of Noble Faith, their religion forces them to become Bloodlets at the age of twenty-one, if they wish to go to heaven." Greg informed John, his eyes darkening as he spoke of the church. John had heard of the church of Noble Faith, a crazy church for crazy people. His cousin joined and was now a Bloodlet somewhere in Germany. John shuddered at the thoughts of the church.

"Poor bastards." John sighed out, spreading jam on his toast. Greg grunted in agreement to him and finished his breakfast.

Three days past in silence, no words from Sherlock. Greg said Master had gone on a business trip to Poland. John felt trapped by the ornate walls of the manor, now that he got a taste of the outside world, even if it was to another cage. Everyday he sat by his wide open window, tasting the free air. Greg had found him like that, watching his friend sadly. On the third night of no Sherlock, John did the unthinkable, he slipped out.

He waited till he felt the manor settle, it was a strange thing to feel indeed. He listened to Greg sleep through the wall, he listened for the quiet steps of Bloodlets, for anything. Nothing. He tossed his window open and looked down. It was about a twenty foot drop down into some bushes. He figured he could manage that. He swung his foot over the windowsill and looked down again, now or never, he thought, swinging his other leg over. Sitting on the sill, he shut his eyes and shoved off. He turned himself in the air, aiming to land on his side. He did just that with a loud thud and a gasp for breath.

After gasping for a few moments, he sat up slowly and testes his body. Nothing felt broken but, he wouldn't know for sure later. He stood with a silly grin on his face. He'd made it outside! Another thought drifted into his head, how would he get back in? He shrugged it off and went to explore the grounds. The grounds are dense with high growing trees, they covered the grounds like moss, sprawling and large. The front half of the grounds were the nice part, a lush lawn with bushes and hedges and flowers. John kept to the forest, his fingers trailing the trees. He wondered if the fence ran all the way around the property. Of course it does, otherwise consorts would have left ages ago. He shook his head at the stupidity of his thought.

As the moon climbed higher in the air, John went deeper, the forest grew thicker. On one tree, his finger drug over a sharp piece of bark, nicking him. He cursed the tree and brought the bleeding finger to his lips to stop the bleeding. That's when he heard the other footsteps. They were soft, like a deer's, maybe it was a deer. He turned to where he thought they were coming from to see nothing but shadows. He shrugged and kept going. He heard them again. He spun around, hugging his bleeding finger to his chest and growled.

"Where just do you think you're going, Mister Watson?" A deep, silken voice snarled. John yelped as someone jumped upon him.


	6. Chapter 6

John woke to the same feeling as his first day in the manor, shackled, cold and, displaced to another bed. This time though, Sherlock sat in front of him, his blue and green swirled eyes narrowed and full of rage. John felt the fear rise into his throat and swarm behind his blue eyes. A shudder of terror rolled through his body. He was going to be beat, he could feel it in the air. Sherlock sneered as he saw John was awake. "Ah, John , welcome back to the Manor." His voice was like a shard of ice, slicing through John, making him wince. Sherlock stood and stalked over to John, his slender hands curled into fists. "Now, I thought I made myself clear, you do not leave without my permission, _ever._" The vampire snarled in his ear, his fingers gripping his hair. John swallowed at the terror in his throat. He saw Sherlock's right hand raise but never come back down until he felt it on his chest. He yelped, making the item fall onto him again. Sherlock stepped back and held the item up, a long, thickly braided whip. Sherlock whistled a sharp note and a Bloodlet came in. Sherlock pointed to John and the Bloodlet came over to remove his shirt.

"Turn him around." Sherlock commanded in his cold voice. The Bloodlet did as told, undoing the shackles and redoing them when John was facing the wall. "Leave us." Sherlock snapped, the Bloodlet scurried away. "Now, you must have known you would be punished so, why do it?" Sherlock asked, a sneer grazing the edge of his words. John didn't answer, simply hanging his head in shame. Sherlock snarled and flicked the whip down upon his back. John yelped again, getting another lash. "Answer me!" Sherlock snarled in his deep voice.

"I needed to taste the freedom." John choked out, the stinging on his back spreading. Sherlock laughed cruelly, the whip licking at his back again. John felt the welts raise on his back where the whip cracked.

"You will only taste that as I feed it to you." Sherlock told his consort, the whip snapping above John's head, not hitting him. A tiny sigh of relief past his lips. The whip fell as soon as it past. "What was that? Relief? No, you don't get that pleasure." Sherlock mocked, snapping the whip again. A welt broke on John's back, making him cry out in pain. Another lash. "Already bleeding." Sherlock muttered more to himself. The vampire then fell into the silent rhythm of lashing the whip, fifteen more times he counted, a sneer of words following every few. "You're window shall be locked tight and you shall not be allowed to go to outings for a month." Sherlock decreed on the last lash, snapping this one over the man's shoulders. John gave one last cry, his nerves exploding with each lash. He then felt something on his back, not the whip but, something in the whip lines. "Delicious." Sherlock purred in his ear, his voice low and throaty. John tensed up, pain bursting in his back. A sharp whistle blew through the room. John heard the Bloodlets enter the room. "Take Mr. Watson back to his room. Then, bring me Greg." Sherlock commanded, his light footsteps taking him out of the room. John was released from the shackles and drug back to his room where, the male Bloodlet locked his window quickly. The two left John and went to Greg's room.

"John!" Greg cried when he saw the bloodied man. The Bloodlets nudged Greg, his eyes wide with distress as he past his beaten friend. John hissed in pain as he went to lay on his belly. He didn't want to look in his mirror, no doubt the horrors he would see. No, instead, he fell asleep, his dreams filled with being beat by Sherlock with much worse tools. Greg was there,, laughing and mocking John as he was beat, a horrible sneer drawn over the other man's lips. The dreams ended with Sherlock draining his body of blood and Greg laughing as he did.

"John, please wake up!" A voice cried, panic twisted in it. John started, then yelped in pain. "Shhh, calm down." Greg whispered. John looked to see his window was covered now, a dark, thick cloth pulled tight over it and nailed down. He gave a cry of distress. Greg had his hand in the other man's hair, trying to soothe him. "John, you have to calm down, alright? I need to clean and dress your back, it won't be a nice experience." Greg warned him, standing. John nodded and swallowed trying regain himself. Greg went to the bathroom they shared and came back with a small bucket of water, some towels and bandages.

Greg placed a towel in the water and rung it out over John's back. John hissed in pain and fisted the sheets. Greg kept apologizing as he did it, he sounded like he was close to tears though, it was John who was crying over this. Finally, Greg carefully wrapped bandages around John, still apologizing. "There." Greg nodded, a dim light in his eyes. John thanked his friend and sat up gingerly. "It will hurt forever but, will heal." Greg shrugged. John nodded. "What did you do?" Greg whispered, his hands twisting together.

"I slid out of my window into the grounds below." John answered, looking down at the sheets. Greg gasped at him.

"You utter idiot." Greg hissed a wince following the words. "Master must like you for not shipping you off that instant he found you." The grey haired man muttered to himself. John simply shrugged. Greg sighed and rubbed his forehead. "John, you can't do that. Next time he'll ship you off to God knows where or, kill you. You disobeyed Master and he doesn't take that lightly." Greg warned, his eyes narrowed. John chuckled.

"You think I obviously don't know that?" John snapped, his blue eyes hard. Greg held his hands up. "my stupidity cost me my window, one of the things that keeps me sane." John gritted out, his hands fists. Greg nodded sadly.

"Master has refused me from letting you use mine." Greg whispered softly. John cursed loudly. Greg winced at his friend's anger. "Sorry but, he said I would be beat as well." Greg whispered again. John sighed.

"I don't want you to be beaten for me." John told his friend. Greg shrugged at John's words.

"I've been beaten before." Greg informed the smaller man. John wondered why but didn't press it. "I must go." Greg stood and looked to John. "You'll be alright?" John nodded and watched his friend leave. He laid down and fell back asleep, the dreams haunting him again.


	7. Chapter 7

John was going mad without being able to look out a window. He was going stark raving mad about it. On the third night without a window, he finally snapped. Once he heard Greg fall asleep, he slipped out his room and sneaked down to the front of the manor. He wouldn't go outside, not right now. He didn't want his wounds to get even worse. Instead, he stood, looking out the large windows that flanked the front doors. He watched the shadows pool around the trees and disappear when lights flashed by.

He heard footsteps behind him, making him tense. "I thought I said no windows." Sherlock's voice rumbled out. John flinched at the his master's voice. He didn't turn around but, kept looking outside. "John Watson, answer your master when he speaks to you." Sherlock snapped out in his icy voice. John sighed.

"I had to. I was going insane without being able to look outside." John told his master, not looking at him. He tensed as he listened to Sherlock step up behind him. a slender hand was set upon his shoulder, making him flinch. The hand was taken away.

"I see." Sherlock muttered, his voice close to John's ear. The consort still didn't look at his master, his blue eyes trained to the tress outside. His master's eyes looked to the beauty outside, trying to see what his consort saw in it. He tilted his head, his blue green eyes narrowing. All he saw was the darkness of shadows pooling under trees. Lights flashed by, destroying the shadows, showing the bark of the tree. Still, he saw nothing worth disobeying a master for. "Why do you disobey me so much for this?" He asked, truly wondering. This consort, this small man was intriguing to him. He disobeyed Sherlock where others would obey to the letter. He didn't sob and beg while he beat his back bloody, aiming to scar him. He barely shied from him, even now, just three days after beating him. He was a strong and strange man.

"Because, if I can see it, I believe one day, I will be free. It is my hope, the thing I cling to. Not even you, can take it from me." John answered, his voice hard. Sherlock snorted. He could take it form him, oh so easily. A trip downstairs would prove that in a few minutes. Absolutely no windows down there, completely sealed off. It would be a last resort for this man though, only he continues to disobey, which he will Sherlock could feel it. John would be forced downstairs one of these days, Sherlock was sure of it.

"Go back to your room before I must punish you more with the whip. No more outside for an extra week." Sherlock said as he walked away. John started to curse Sherlock. "I'll add a week if you keep cursing me." Sherlock sneered, pausing on the steps. John bowed and went to his room. Sherlock continued to his study. On his very fancy desk sat a glass of blood. He smiled and drank the red, syrupy liquid before setting to the paperwork that needed to be done. He picked up his favorite pen and set to work.

By midnight, his eyes were starting to drift open and shut. A growl escaped his lips and he forced himself to stay awake. He set his pen down and spun in his chair to look outside. A sharp wind rattled the branches of his forest, making him wonder if this is what John loved. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Holmes, the youngest." He answered, spinning back to his desk.

"Brother dearest." His elder brother, Mycroft purred over the line. "I'm coming to visit home in a few days, I trust you haven't burned it down yet?" Mycroft questioned, Sherlock could hear the sneer in his words.

"All is well here brother." Sherlock assured him, panic settling in his still chest. He hadn't seen Mycroft for a year, ever since he threw plates at his brother's head for trying to seduce Greg. The man was _his _consort, not his brother's. Mycroft had a slew of consorts at his home outside the city, he made sure of it.

"Good. I'll be there on Saturday." Mycoft informed him, hanging up. Sherlock set his phone down and cursed. He pressed the button on the des and waited. A few minutes past before a knock of four came at the door.

"Enter." He said. Molly stepped into his study, her body bare.

"Yes my Lord?" She asked, bowing to him. Sherlock grinned at her.

"Mycroft is coming to visit." He told her. A gleam entered her eyes.

"This is a problem." She tapped her chin, a curtain of red hair came over the left side of her face. "However will you handle it?" she asked, a sneer on her face as she stepped over to him. Sherlock shrugged.

"Muddle through it, I suppose." His long arms reached out to capture her in them as she drew closer. He pressed his face into her stomach. "But, I don't want to think of Mycroft now, only you." He spoke into her skin, his fingers traveling u p and down her back. Molly purred and sat on his lap.

John woke to Greg, it seemed to be a pattern. "Master is calling for us." Greg told him, tossing some clothes at his face. John dressed and followed his friend down the stairs. Sherlock was standing in front of his army of Bloodlets in the main hall. Greg stood in the back, dragging John with him.

"My brother, Lord Mycroft Holmes will be here on Saturday till I have no idea. I need best behaviors from you all." His eyes caught John's and narrowed. John gulped. One wrong move on Saturday could kill me. "Bloodlets, you are to clean the manor till is sparkles like snow under the sun." He waved a hand, dismissing the Bloodlets. "You two," He pointed a finger at both men,"are to only engage Mycroft when he speaks to you. Nothing else. you, Greg, will only speak to him when I"m present. Got it?" Sherlock commanded. Both bowed and gave verbal conformation. Good. Leave." He waved a hand at them. The two went upstairs to eat. Greg seemed giddy.

"I think you'll like Mycroft, John." Greg told his friend as they ate. John snorted.

"If he's anything like Sherlock, I won't." John retorted.


	8. Chapter 8

When Saturday rolled around, John listened to the Bloodlets rush around, trying to get everything in place for that afternoon. He laid in bed, listening to the manor. Greg stepped into his room with their tray of food and the two of them ate silently. John dressed in his usual and followed Greg downstairs. Sherlock was waiting, in his usual suit, a cigarette in his slender fingers.

"Now, Mycroft is annoying, obnoxiously so. He likes to follow the rules of the Nobles to a T so please," His eyes narrowed at John." behave. Do not give him a reason to whine to me to beat you. If you do that, we can all make it through with only tiny cuts." Sherlock finished, flicking ashes off his cigarette. A Bloodlet swept them away and stood again. Sherlock nodded and stepped away with his long, graceful strides. John looked to Greg for what to do. Greg stood, bowed at his waist, eyes cast down. John looked to see the others doing so. He bowed with them, gritting his teeth. When Greg stood, as did John. His friend then went back to their hall.

At noon, they were called down to the front hall. The Bloodlets were dressed in red shirts and black pants, all of them almost swimming in them. They were placed in rows up the stairs, showing John how many there truly were. Greg stood a bit behind Sherlock, hands clasped behind his back. A woman with long, flowing red hair came to stand by Greg. She wore a shift-like dress and no shoes. John stood on the side of Greg and waited. Sherlock held a cigarette, one that he tapped more then he smoked. The doors were thrown open and a largish, balding Noble stepped in. An African American woman strode behind him, a smug look on her. She had the Noble walk without the Noble blood, John could tell.

"Ah, brother, pleasure as always." Sherlock greeted sarcastically. The Bloodlets dropped into bows, John following them.

"Sherlock, I see you've acquired another Consort. That last one not good enough?" Mycroft asked, teasing in his words. John stood still, his head bowed. "Ah, see you've already had to beat him. Not a tight enough hold on him?" Mycroft stepped over to him and dug his fingers into John's hair and pulled up. John had no choice but to stare the man in the face. His blue grey eyes hard and filled with the Noble glint. John narrowed his eyes at the man before he felt something hard sweep at his knees. He gasped as his legs dropped out beneath him and he was held up by his hair. Mycroft sneered at him, a challenge in his eyes. Stand, or be forced himself to endure it, he could feel his scalp cry in pain, the skin tearing.

"That is enough Mycroft." Sherlock snarled, his voice low and warning. Mycroft dropped John ,the man collecting in a pool on the ground. Greg didn't break his bow, just looked at his friend helplessly as John stood and returned to his bow.

"You are no fun, brother. I love to play with the consorts." Mycroft had a devilish sneer on his face. Sherlock remained unaffected.

"Not mine, Mycroft. Play with your's." Sherlock told his brother, starting to walk away. Mycroft gave one more sneer to John before walking after his brother, the woman following him, throwing her own sneer at him. Once they past, They all stood and went about their business. The red haired woman raced off, john wondered where she was going. He was interrupted by Greg.

"John are you okay?" He friend asked, a hand going to his shoulder. john nodded, standing straight.

"Yes, I'm alright." He rubbed at his scalp which was still stinging. Greg huffed at the general direction the two Nobles had disappeared into.

"Mycroft thinks he can do whatever he wants to the consorts because he is part of the Noble government." Greg snorted, rolling his eyes. "He likes to take jabs at us so please, be careful." Greg warned, pulling away a bit. "Besides, Master won't let him hurt you too much, a little pain never hurt." Greg shrugged before looking to the stairs.

The two men went to Greg's room to eat lunch and to sit about. Greg somehow got a T.V. in his room so the tow of them watched the football match, cheering for London. As dinner grew closer, a BLoodlet came up to Greg's room.

"Master wished for you two to join him and Lord Holmes." The Bloodlet informed them, bowing. The two men stood and followed down the stirs to the dining hall. Sherlock was sitting at the head of the table, Mycroft next to him. The woman who arrived with Mycroft sat on his other side. Sherlock's eyes flicked to the two seat to his left. Greg took the one closest and John sat next to him, across from the woman.

"Now that we're all here." Sherlock muttered, clapping twice. Bloodlets came out with trays and set them out. They ate in relative silence, until, John happened to look up and catch Mycroft's eye. The Noble sneered and set his fork down.

"You, consort, what is your name?" Mycroft asked, folding his hands. The woman sneered at him as well.

"My name is John Watson, sir." He answered, trying to keep the bite from his voice. Mycroft tilted his head.

"Tell me, brother dear, why doesn't he identify with our house? Doe she belong to the Watson house? I know of no Noble by the last name of Watson." Mycroft turned to his brother, still sneering. Sherlock sighed and shut his eyes.

"John has requested to keep his last name." Sherlock told his brother. Mycroft snorted.

"You know they must take the last name of their house." Mycroft informed his brother. Sherlock glared at his sibling, ice in his eyes.

"I understand that, Mycroft, however, I allow my consorts to keep their name if they should please." Sherlock snapped, his voice plain. Mycroft snorted.

"I see. What else do you let your consorts do? I suppose they get windows." He waved a hand with a snort of laughter. John stilled to listen. "Yes, I bet they do. And I bet they get to live above ground, like Nobles. " He snorted yet, Sherlock did not disagree. "Brother!" Mycroft cried, his blue grey eyes wide. "You let them?" He asked, a hand placed on his chest. Sherlock shrugged.

"I let them have basic rights, unlike you." Sherlock answered. Mycroft rolled with laughter.

"Basic rights? That is the best joke ever!" Mycroft roared, a fist slamming onto the table. Sherlock did not laugh. "Seriously brother?" Mycroft sobered, his pointed eyes glaring. Sherlock nodded. Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed. "Sherlock Holmes, a softie for humans." He shook his head and continued to eat. John thanked whatever god was listening that he didn't get picked up by Mycroft Holmes.


	9. Chapter 9

**I want to thank you all for the support, I've gotten way more then I thought. Triggers in this chapter for rape. **

Mycroft stayed for two days till something actually happened. Of course, he strolled the manor, his umbrella in hand, lashing out at every Bloodlet that past him. John could hear the intakes of breath and the murmurs if the Bloodlets each night. He heard the female Bloodlets whisper-cry to each other late at night, crying about he didn't know what about but the same word he heard was Mycroft. He wondered if he should go to Sherlock about it but, he decided against it. So, he kept quiet about it.

One the third night of Mycroft in the manor, when John was getting ready for bed, he heard the Bloodlets scuttle from the hall. He raised his head, curious about what was happening. He poked his head out of his room to see nothing but the darkness of the hall. He shrugged and went back to getting ready for bed. He snuggled into his bed and stared at his ceiling, waiting for sleep's claws to drag him down into dreams.

He was roused some time later by the creak of a floorboard in his room. John had figured out where the floor creaked and showed Greg. The two walked around it so Sherlock couldn't hear them late at night. His eyes were blurry as he opened them to see a figure in his room. He thought maybe is was Greg or a Bloodlet coming to check on him. Sometimes they did that in the middle of the night, to check if he was still in the bed and hadn't slipped out. John rubbed at his eyes, the blurred blobs still shifted around his sight. He felt his bed dip with weight and he realized it wasn't a Bloodlet. Maybe Greg got scared and was coming for comfort. The men did that sometimes, some dream about their past scared them to go hide in the other's bed. Usually, they touched each other's shoulders to tell them. When the person didn't tough his shoulder, John started to panic. He tried to wiggle but his brain was clouded over.

The person, John recognized as a man, crawled up his body and started to nip at his neck. John wiggled and tried to scoot away. "No, no, don't do that." The voice purred. Mycroft. Panic was welling in John's chest. He tried to bring his knee up onto the other man's groin but, it was trapped in the blankets tangled around his legs. Mycroft just sneered down at John as he took away John's shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. John was in a full panic mode now, his hands clawing and swatting at Mycroft's face. The Noble snarled and caught his wrists in one hand and kept them there. John was shifting and wiggling out the blankets, trying to gain the upper hand. He twisted his left leg free of the blankets and brought it up into Mycroft, the vampire snarled and slammed the consort down. John gave a yelp, trying to make it loud. Mycroft snarled again, clamping his hand down on John's mouth. "Feisty." Mycroft huffed, pulling his hand off his mouth and reaching blindly for something. He grabbed a shirt on the floor and tied it around John's mouth. "Better." Mycroft purred and continued.

When John felt his pajama bottoms slide off, he went on thrashing again. Mycroft sat back, his weight pressing down on John's hips, trapping him. Mycroft let his hands go so he could take his own shirt and trousers off. He grabbed at John's wrists again. He then kissed sloppy trails down John's chest, making the consort wiggle. He took one of John's dusky nipples into his mouth, making the man gasp. Mycroft purred and sat up. His free hand grabbed John's chin and turned his head. "I knew it." He said with a sneer. "Sherlock hasn't taken you yet. Perfect." His tone was horrible it sent a shiver up John's spine. John screamed as loud as he could as he felt Mycroft's mouth on his neck, his fangs dragging at the skin. He continued the scream, hoping someone would hear it.

Apparently they did because Greg came rushing in shouting and waving his arms. Mycroft sat up and snarled, his shoulder hunched over John, like a wolf. A Bloodlet appeared in the doorway. "Get Master!" Greg commanded, grabbing at Mycroft.

"How dare you touch a Noble!" Mycroft roared, slamming his hand into Greg's chest, sending him flying. John trashed, his hands free now. He punched Mycroft in the nose, not caring if he broke it. Mycroft growled as John kicked and hit at him. Mycroft was ripped form him, a feral snarl breaking up the tense air in the room. "Brother dearest." Mycroft purred, his voice small. Sherlock leaped onto his brother, his fangs glinting in the dim moonlight. John closed his eyes as the two vampires fought like wolves.

"Say it." Sherlock's voice broke the snarls and growls rising from the two. Sherlock wanted Mycroft to say soucit, the Noble's word for "mercy". Mycroft hissed in his brother's face. Sherlock pressed his weight down harder onto Mycroft and snarled," Say it, now!". Mycroft raised his head.

"Soucit." He spat. Sherlock rolled off of him and stood.

"How. Dare. You. Touch. My. Consort." Sherlock said each word in a growl, his chest heaving, his blue eyes wide and swirled with crimson. John shrank on his bed at the sight of crimson in his master's eyes. Crimson meant that Noble was beyond mad, he was so mad that he saw red, literally. "Get out of my manor and never EVER return. If you return you're throat will be ripped out by my hands." Sherlock's voice was low, the crimson still in his eyes. Mycroft nodded meagerly and went to collect his clothes. "No. In what you wear now." Sherlock raised a hand and then pointed to the door. Mycroft huffed and stepped out. Sherlock glared at Greg who backed out and then he went to John. He handed the consort his clothes and waited for him to put them back on. He helped the smaller man out of the gag before sitting in the desk chair. The crimson in his eyes had calmed to amber swirling near the pupil.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, his deep voice calm. John paused, feeling his body. His whip wounds on his back stung sharply, he was pretty sure on them was bleeding. His hips and wrists hurt from Mycroft, other then that, his body was fine. His brain though, not so much. Each shoadow that past the window made him flinch.

"I-I think so." John answered, his voice shaky and cracked. Sherlock blinked at him.

"I'm very sorry for my brother, he will never be near you again. You got that?" Sherlock told him, something making his voice fierce. The fierceness in his voice made John flinch. Sherlock leaned back, calming himself. "I will get the Noble police involved and they will do something." Sherlock promised him, it sounded like a promise to John. The consort nodded dully, his fingers twisted in the blankets. Sherlock stood carefully. "If you need to talk or, are scared, you know where my room is. Just knock twice in the left corner." Sherlock advised him, his voice still low. John nodded. "Good night John." Sherlock muttered before leaving. Greg came in. John saw him and burst into tears. Greg rushed over and collected the other man in his arms. John clung to his friend and cried.

"Shhh. It'll be alright John, Master will take care of everything. I'm here, don't worry you;re pretty head now. Shh." Greg stayed with his friend through the night, comforting him through the new nightmares that plagued his brain. He didn't care if he didn't get enough sleep, this was for John and that's all that mattered that night.


	10. Chapter 10

As Sherlock entered his bedroom that night, rage broke free form his chest. He roared in anger and slammed his hand into the wall, cracking it. He felt the fury return to him, the loss of control taking over him. He raged for a good twenty minutes before he calmed, the crimson draining slowly from his eyes. His room was now a wreck, the chairs that were set near his desk were in a haphazard heap near the door, the wall had quite a few new cracks and breaks in them. He couldn't believed his brother would do that, he had half a mind to track down Mycroft and kill him. He had told Mycroft not to go anywhere near John, for good reason. The consort had that air about him that could drive anyone towards him without thought.

He heard the single knock in the right corner which signaled Greg. "Enter." He snarled out, pulling at the heap of chairs. Greg entered and looked around sheepishly. "Grab a chair and sit." Sherlock waved a hand to the pile of chairs. Greg yanked one out and sat. "Is he asleep?" Sherlock asked, sitting in a chair. Greg nodded.

"Yes, he finally drifted off. Although Mycroft didn't get too far, he took a tole on John. The man's scared to death right now, Master." Greg informed him, his hands twisting together. Sherlock steepled his hands so the fingertips rested on his lips. "It will take longer till he trusts you again." Greg pointed out, leaning back. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.

"I understand. Just please, help him through this. He will need someone like you to get him through this." Sherlock stated, his shoulder relaxing. Greg nodded and stood.

"I must go, John might've woken up again." Greg bowed to his master and stepped out. Sherlock heaved a sigh and tilted his head back. His head hurt from the crimson rushing in and out of his eyes, as well as his brother. Mycroft was strong as ever, only with his wits and quick hands was Sherlock able to get him to evoke soucit. His fangs hurt from snapping them and gnashing them on his brother's skin. Even more so, his heart was sore form caring so much about John Watson. At first, he wanted the consort just for another consort but, the man was something else. He was only a little afraid to disobey orders, more then others he'd had. Sherlock liked a tiny bit of rebellion, not so much that the consort got out of control but, just enough so they felt like they controlled something of their life. Sherlock snorted at that thought, his subjects didn't own their lives, not anymore, they were his to play with no, to protect.

John woke with a scream, one that barely past his lips for his voice was hoarse from screaming the night away. he barely slept, when he did, he saw Mycroft and what would've happened, each time even worse. Greg's head poked around the corner. "Fine, I'm fine." John waved a hand, the other held his face.

"You sure?" Greg asked, his eyes flicking over John. The man nodded and waved the other away. Greg hesitated before going back to his room. John sat up and pulled his blankets around himself. Each Bloodlet that past his room made him flinch. He longed for a door so he couldn't see who past. Doors made him feel safe, open doorways scared him to no end. He wondered if Sherlock would give him a door? He stood shakily, one blanket wrapped around him like a cloak and set off.

He went to Sherlock's room and knock twice in the left corner. "Enter." The voice was soft. John opened the door, bowed and entered. Sherlock was curled up in the great big bed in the center of the room. john's cheeks reddened as he saw the master with no shirt on. Sherlock sat up and ran a hand through his nest of curls. "Yes John, how can I help you?" Sherlock asked with a yawn, one that showed off his fangs. John shuddered then steeled himself.

"Master, I was wondering if I could request a door be put on my room?" John asked, his eyes down. Sherlock was quiet for a moment.

"Whatever for?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the right. John looked up a this master. How could he be so thick?

"Because of last night;s events, I was wondering if I could have a door." John told Sherlock, his voice firmer now. Sherlock thought again.

"I suppose. Only till you are healed enough to not have a door." Sherlock told his consort. John nodded and bowed to him.

"Thank you Master." John gushed, hope fluttered in his chest.

"The door will be placed today." Sherlock informed him, falling back down. John took this to leave. He turned and left.

John spent the rest of the day huddled in his bed, watching the Bloodlets put his door up and, hiding from the manor. He had broken down in the middle of the day, sobs racking his body. He tried to cover them but, Greg heard them. The other man came in and soothed him. John felt weird, technically, he hadn't been raped. He was almost raped and that was enough to break him. He felt weak that it was enough to break him. He thought Sherlock would break him first.

The thought that Sherlock was there to protect him made him feel better. The Noble had cast his brother out to protect John made the man feel better. He had the support of Greg to help him along as well. Somehow, he felt a strong connection with both men, they helped him in their own ways. He hoped he could help them as much as they helped him.


	11. Chapter 11

It took a solid two weeks till John would only wake three times each night with a nightmare. Around that time, he was able to get up and haunt the manor and even have evening meals with Greg and Sherlock. He still needed the door though, and he clearly wasn't ready to go out with Sherlock yet. He still flinched at quick movements and each time someone's hand raised around him. It frustrated Sherlock that his brother did this to the consort, Mycroft had broke John and now Sherlock and Greg were left to try and glue the pieces back together.

On a less then sunny day, John and Greg were in the latter man's room, playing cards. They were playing go fish, a gentleman's game, Greg had called it jokingly. A Bloodlet entered the room and bowed to the consorts. "Master has asked for Mister Watson's presence." The Bloodlet informed them. John nodded and stood. Greg smiled at him and shuffled the cards. John followed the Bloodlet to Sherlock's office, a small room near the master's room. John knocked as the Bloodlet backed away.

"Enter." The master called out. John stepped in, bowed and looked to his master. Sherlock was sitting at a large desk, books piled around him, a hand tangled in his curls, stress written over his pale face. "John, hello." Sherlock greeted, setting a book aside. John greeted Sherlock. "Now, I know it's been a couple weeks but, I have this dinner thing in a few days and Greg is getting bored with it and Molly hates the dinners so, I was hoping you would be able to go." Sherlock seemed flustered, it was strange for the Noble. John was taken back the request though, it had been only two weeks.

"Well, I have no choice in the matter anyways so, I shall go." John said bitterly, praying he wouldn't be hit for it. Sherlock glared at the consort, clearly not amused.

"I'm giving you a choice in this matter, John. Go if you're up to it, that also means your door is taken away. Don't go and hide behind your door for the rest of your time here, see if I care." Sherlock shrugged at the last part, picking a book up. John's blood heated. Sherlock cared, he knew he did. He would drag John out and show him about again if it was the last thing the Noble did.

"I'll go." John spat out. Sherlock's eyebrow quirked up.

"Good, good." Sherlock answered as if he didn't care at all. John wanted to take the book away and yell at his master, to make him see how John didn't want to go. How challenged John felt. "You may go now." Sherlock waved a hand at John. The consort didn't bow when he left, he just stormed out. John didn't bother going back to Greg's room, he didn't feel like it anymore. Instead, he went to his room and fell onto the bed. He growled into his pillow and flipped over. That stupid Sherlock, he made john want to punch him in the jaw. There were days where john had to hold himself back from punching the Noble. Other days though, he didn't mind the Noble, he found himself searching for him and being disappointed when he didn't find him. Stupid Sherlock.

Two days later was the dinner. John dressed in his nice trousers and shirt. Greg was extra fussy over him that day, asking John is he was really up for it. "Of course I am." John snapped at him, his blue eyes dark. Greg had nodded and backed up. Now, John was descending the stairs, Sherlock waiting him in the main hall. The Noble looked up at John and nodded to him.

Sherlock held his arm out and John took it. The two went out to the car and rode in awkward silence. They came to a large manor with almost no front yard. John wrinkled his nose at this.

"Welcome to Geller Manor." Sherlock muttered under his breath. The two men walked the short path to the door and gave their coats to a Bloodlet at the door.

"Master Holmes." A woman cried. John recognized her as Mistress Weston. He smiled at the thought of a familiar Noble.

"Ah Mistress Weston, pleasure as always." Sherlock smiled and kissed her hand. "You remember my consort, John?" He waved a hand to John, who bowed to the two Nobles.

"Ah yes! Of course, how could I forget?" She purred to John. "Still cute as a button." She commented before looking to Sherlock. "So, how is the mate hunt?" She asked, cocking her head. Sherlock heaved a sigh, one that sounded of a child being asked about his classes.

"I haven't been looking." He replied, his eyes sweeping the room. Mistress Weston gaped at him.

"Sherlock! What are you going to do when the Council finds out?" she snapped, her pale green eyes wide. "You know you must have a mate before your fiftieth year." She told him, hands going to her hips. "Your brother may be in the government but even you can't break that law." She scolded him. Sherlock's jaw set at the mention of his brother.

"You don't think I know this? I know all of this. I was taught as a youngin." He told her, his arms crossing. "I just, don't want one." Sherlock shrugged. Mistress Weston sighed at him.

"It doesn't work like that darling. You know that." She shook her head. "Consorts do not count as mates either. Not unless they're vampires. Now, I must find my husband, Lord knows where he is." she sighed and looked around. "Just, find a mate, darling. Nice to see you, John." she smiled at the consort which startled him. Sherlock nodded to her and strode away. John scrabbled after him.

"John, don't look to the left." Sherlock muttered. "I should have known. I'm sorry John." Sherlock spun, something john hadn't seen in the Noble's eyes before. Panic, sorrow. He turned to see someone he never wanted to see again. Mycroft.


	12. Chapter 12

Panic slammed into John like a bull, it knocked it's horns into his chest and barreled him over. He felt his back hit the hardwood floor beneath, even though it never touched the ground. Sherlock noticed immediately, his long fingers grabbing John's wrist and yanked him through the crowd, not bothering to apologize to the Nobles he slammed into. Sherlock tugged him into a bathroom off the main room and turned to him. He set his large hands on the sides of the smaller man's face and breathed. John was shaking, actually, he was quaking. There wasn't a thought in his brain that wasn't filled with sheer panic. He didn't respond to his master's cold fingers on his warm face, nor did he respond to the man talking to him. He had pulled himself into his head and wouldn't come back out.

"John, you need to listen to me. John, please. Listen!" Sherlock grew impatient at the man but, he recomposed himself. Getting angry won't solve this, he scolded himself, willing himself to calm down. "John, Mycroft doesn't know we're here. He won't attack us in a social gathering such as this one. He simply won't, it is against Noble law." Sherlock tried to reassure the man in his hands but, John still wasn't tuned in. His brain was looping that night, terror was a bolt in his eyes. Sherlock started to panic a little. What if he couldn't get John out of this state? What if John went mental? There a billion what ifs that went through Sherlock's mind in three seconds. Maybe I could snap him out of it, Sherlock wondered as he stared at John. A few ideas came to him. Yup that one would work, a sneer drew across his face.

Sherlock placed his hands back on the side's of John's warm face. His blue grey eyes searched the darker blue ones in front of him. Alright, here I go. He leaned froward and placed his own lips over John's. The man startled in his hands, he tensed before he started to hit at Sherlock's chest. Sherlock broke away, a cry rising from John. "Shhh John. Its Sherlock." The Noble cried, wrapping his arms around the smaller man to control him. John turned to liquid in the vampire's arms. His face was pressed against the Noble's chest and he began to cry. Not huge, body racking sobs but, he cried. Sherlock held the man as he cried, soothing his hair and speaking to him in a low tone. John cried for a good while before pulling away.

"I am sorry, Master." John stammered out, his voice uneven. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise.

"Sorry?" he asked, ice covering his words. "How dare you be sorry for that! I will not allow you to be sorry for showing emotion, for being scared. No, you will not be sorry for it, not a single bit." Sherlock snapped, his eyes cold. "We must get you out of here. Come." Sherlock tossed the door open and led his consort out. He found a very tall and old man. "Sir Geller hello." Sherlock dipped his head to the Noble. "My consort is very ill and I must return to my own manor. I am very sorry for this." Sherlock bowed again.

"I understand. Be well." Sir Geller nodded to John before the two men shuffled away. They slipped into the cold night and into their car without a hitch. Sherlock heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

When they returned to the manor, Sherlock grabbed John's arm before he raced off. "Come." Sherlock said in a soft voice. John simply followed, he was quite curious to where Sherlock was taking him. They came to the Master's personal room. John paused. Sherlock looked back. "don't worry, I'm not bringing you here for that." He assured the man. John sighed and followed. Sherlock started to yank clothes off as soon as the door shut. He undid the coat of his suit and tossed it onto a chair. He pulled off his tie and flung it into a corner. "Sit, lay, stand, do something." Sherlock shrugged out of his white button up shirt and tossed it away. John blushed at the stripping man and sat in one the many chairs in the room. He peeled off his shoes and set them next to his chair. Sherlock's trousers were off and he was pulling flannel bottoms on.

"Um.." John looked around the room. The ceiling was vaulted and the room was airy. Sherlock was looking at John, softness in his kaleidoscope eyes. The man was only in the flannel bottoms, his slender hands set on his narrow hips. John felt his face flush even more.

"I didn't bring you in here for a strip tease by the way." Sherlock said as he crossed the room, pulled two small glasses out of a cabinet, along with a bottle of some alcohol. He poured some into each glass before handing one to John. " Brandy." He informed John. The human crinkled his nose at it but drank it politely. It was like someone lit a fire in his throat. He coughed and thumped at his chest. Sherlock chuckled at him and sipped his own glass. "No, its not a shot." He told the man.

"Could have told me that at first." John grumbled, setting the glass down. Sherlock smirked as he sat, hands steepled so the fingertips were at his lips.

"In all seriousness, are you alright John? You scared me at the dinner." Sherlock raised an eyebrow to the man. john thought for a moment, going through inventory of his body.

"Yes, I believe I am alright." John answered. Sherlock nodded.

"Good. Now, to why I brought you here. A certain person, who shall remain nameless is concerned for your well being. they have heard you at night, drying out for someone, a name they've never caught. All they hear is Sh- and then the rest is lost in mumbles. I have decided to experiment. You shall sleep here tonight, with me and I will listen to your mumbles to hear who you cry out for. I will go from there." Sherlock told the consort, his hands leaving his face. John looked at him bewildered.

"No, you don't have to do that." John tried but Sherlock silenced him.

"Nonsense." Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "Now, put these on." He tossed the smaller man a pair of pajama bottoms. John stripped of his other clothes, cheeks ablaze the whole time, a pulled on the bottoms. "Now, crawl into bed." Sherlock pointed to the large bed shoved up against the far wall. John scurried over and shoved back the great covers and slid in. Sherlock followed, his long legs carrying him quickly to the bed. He slid under the covers and looked to John. "Sleep." The master ordered. John snapped his eyes shut and waited fro sleep.

Sherlock watched John try to sleep for a long time. It took the man over two hours to slip into REM. During that, he was fitful, his body jerking back and forth. Sherlock heard him mumble random words, or, words that seemed random to Sherlock. Finally, after four hours of watching the man sleep, Sherlock heard him utter the first name. "Sh-sher.." The rest was lost to a mumble even too low for the vampire to hear. He knew though, the first part had proven it. John was calling for him and that, that gave the vampire hope.


	13. Chapter 13

After hearing the name, Sherlock slid down and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to wash over him. His dreams were scattered as usual, they took mostly from his memories, showing him parts he'd rather forget. He watched himself attack a poor teenage girl on the streets during his first feed. He watched her die in his arms, his fangs sunk deep in her throat. Mycroft grabbed him by his hair and yanked him off the girl. "Now see what you did, brother?" Mycroft snarled, standing over his younger brother. Sherlock's pupils were huge, the black swallowing all other colors. "Now we have to cover up her murder." Mycroft sighed and went to the girl. "I suggest you clean up." He said over his shoulder. Sherlock could still feel the cooling blood drip from his face onto his shirt, it felt like raindrops but heavier.

The next dream was of his parent's death. Killed by the Noble government. His father, the weak man he was, stooped on his knees, neck bared. His mother, his dear sweet but defiant mother, her head up, blue grey eyes locked with the King's eyes as the ax fell on her neck. Sherlock startled awake after that, as always. John was curled into his side, arm tossed over his waist. Sherlock breathed heavily, something he only does when he awakens. Even though he doesn't need to, Sherlock still loves to breath. He loves to feel the air rush into his empty lungs and then out. It was sorta like eating, the Noble barely needed to yet, they always held feasts with too much food for them all.

Sherlock turned to John, the other man's face pressed into his side. Sherlock smiled fondly down at him and ran a hand through his hair. John's face was calm, something Sherlock hadn't seen before. He looked to the pale light filtering through the window, he judged the time and looked back down at the sleeping man. He tried to wiggle out of his grasp but John held on, his fingers curling around Sherlock's hip. The Noble sighed and settled back down, his fingers tapping on the mattress. Luckily, John woke an hour later.

"Morning." Sherlock greeted as the other man started to stretch. John yawned loudly and blinked the heaviness out of his eyes.

"Hello." The other man greeted, sitting up. "How did the experiment go?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, the bones cracking in his neck. Sherlock nodded and looked down at the blankets.

"Yes well, I've figured out the name of the person you call for." He replied, twisting the blankets in his long fingers. John nodded and waited. "You call out for...me." He paused, waiting for the answer from the human. John blinked a couple times before he started to speak.

"Well, maybe it is because you saved me from your brother. Also, you're in my life a lot so maybe that's it." John shrugged. Sherlock nodded, those were his first thoughts as well.

"Well yes those could be. I'm not sure since I don't know your thought patterns. If I did, it would be easier for me to tell." Sherlock shrugged and slid out of bed. He walked towards his bathroom to shower. He felt rude for leaving John in his room alone but, the man would get it and just leave.

John sat on the bed, not quite sure what to do. Sherlock hadn't told him to leave or stay so, he was unsure. Did Sherlock want him to stay, or did he do that so John would leave? He man kicked the covers off and grabbed his clothes. He slipped into them and sat on the bed once again. A knock came at the door. He hesitated but the door opened anyways. A woman with red hair and a nightgown stepped in.

"Oh. Didn't realize you were in here." she said, pausing to look at John. The man cocked his head at her. "Molly. You must be John." she smiled at him. He recognized her from when Mycroft came to the manor.

"Yes. Hello. Master is in the shower." He pointed to the door, confused on why she was here. Molly smiled at him and walked over.

"Yes, I',m aware of where Master is. He has the same routine every morning. I'm more interested in you, John Watson." Her smiled turned into more of a smirk as she stopped in front of him. John blinked and tilted his head to look up at her. She wasn't very tall but, sitting down she was. "Now, who are you?" She asked, tilting her own head.

"John Watson, ex-doctor, brother of Harriet Watson, consort to Master Sherlock Holmes." He answered, stating all the obvious about him. Molly laughed at him, a nice, carefree laugh.

"Oh John Watson how you make me laugh." She grinned down at him. "Yes, I can see why Master chose you." She smiled again and sat down next to him. "My name is Molly Hooper. I use to work at a hospital as well, didn't get past my training though before Master scooped me up and brought me here. My mother was devastated that I was gone, the only one really. Mt brother and sister couldn't care less, both shipping off to some other country." Molly sighed bitterly. John knew he was in for a tale, one he'd been wanting to hear since he was told about Molly. "Master said I was a 'special' consort, his only female consort in all his years. He had many consorts back then, about five or so. Then, he started to get rid of them, only keeping Greg and another man named Bernard. Then, Bernard died from cancer I think it was and it was only Greg and I. Master kept a nice rotation of them coming in, none of them lasting long. Curse that Mycroft, he always came round to kill the consorts. He hates Master's love of consorts. Says it isn't good for him.

"Then, Mycroft went after Greg. Like he went after you. Greg resisted and cried loud enough for Master to hear. Mycroft was beat and Greg was moved up to Head Consort. Mycroft tried to go after me once, Master almost killed Mycroft. For some reason, you were the last straw. Sherlock has never been so angry at his brother. Not since he tried to go after me, that is." Molly sighed and looked up at John. "John, for some reason you don't understand how much Master cares for us. He really does. It is a rare trait in Master's. Most only keep the consort around long enough for them to become completely smitten with their master and then they dump them in the streets or kill them. Master, he doesn't do that. He will keep a consort till they die. He cares for us all. He even tells the families when a consort dies, giving them the body to bury. They all hate him, of course but, the thank him just the same. I've seen Master shed tears for his fallen consorts. IT's one of the reason he only keeps three of us. Less chance for us to all die." Molly explained, her hands talking along with her mouth.

"Molly, I see you've found John." Sherlock observed from the bathroom door. Molly stood and grinned at Sherlock.

"As if you could keep him from me." She smirked, stalking over to him. "I was just telling him about you actually care for us all." She explained, draping an arm over his shoulders. John stood and went towards the door. "Leaving us so soon?" Molly asked, cocking her head, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. John looked to Sherlock who nodded.

"Yes, I am. Greg will be wondering where I've been." John told them, bowing before stepping out. He hurried away. Molly looked to Sherlock.

"What did you do to the poor man?" She asked, pushing off of him. Sherlock chuckled and sat on his bed.

"I didn't do anything, Mycroft did." Sherlock growled out, clenching his fists. Molly took them into her own to soften them.

"Hey, don't think about that. I was just teasing."Sshe smiled down at him as he calmed his hands. "He cares for you." she told him quietly. Sherlock snorted. "He does. He is very loyal as well. Most consorts would have left the room but, he didn't. He was waiting there for you like a little puppy. There's something there. Act on it." She told him before she pulled away. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I must be going, tons to do, no one to see." Molly grinned, walking away.

"Have fun." Sherlock called after her. Molly simply laughed as she walked out.


	14. Chapter 14

As John entered the consort hall, Greg was waiting by his room. "Where the hell were you?" Greg snapped, his eyes glowering. "I thought you were dead or worse." Greg sounded like John's mother after he out till after dark. A pang sparked in his chest but he shoved it away.

"I was with Master." John told his friend, entering his room. Greg gaped at him. John turned to look at him. "What?" He asked as he shrugged out of his jumper.

"You were with Master? Good job mate!" Greg grinned, the anger draining out of his face. John stepped out of his jeans and tossed them into the dirty pile. He grabbed some sweat pants and yanked them on.

"Not like that, Greg." John then explained what had happened. Greg deflated when he heard his friend wasn't with Sherlock like that yet.

"Wait, you talked to Molly? And Master didn't get mad at you?" Greg asked, his head cocked. John shrugged and nodded.

"Is that bad?" John asked. Greg shook his head.

"No! Not at all. That's good." Greg smiled at him John ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the knots in it. "Your hair is getting long." Greg pointed out. John's hair was now hanging limply around his eyes, the ends curled a bit.

"I need to cut it soon." John sighed, pushing bits out of his face. "I hate when it gets long, makes me look like a hobbit." Greg laughed at him, making John smile.

"I would love to see hobbit John. You're almost as small as them." Greg teased.

"Hey!" John snapped. "I'm not that small!" He argued, crossing his arms. Greg chuckled.

"Alright, whatever helps you sleep at night." He grinned. John glared at his friend.

"Well then." He huffed, dropping onto his bed. Greg sat in the desk chair and they both were quiet for a few moments. John felt his stomach rumble and then realized he hadn't eaten since the day before, about noon. "Greg, I'm hungry." John said, looking to his friend. Greg blinked before he nodded. He stuck his head out of the room and called for a Bloodlet. A thin girl came to them, her pale cheeks flush.

"Could we have some breakfast?" Greg asked nicely. The girl nodded, bowed and raced off. Greg sighed and flopped back into his chair. A couple minutes past before the girl came back up. "thank you dear." Greg smiled at her as he took the tray from her. The girl flashed a quick smile and darted off.

"I've never seen them smile before." John said as Greg set the tray down. Greg shrugged as they tucked into their meal.

"They do it, not very often though. They're human, John, though they barely look it." Greg said as he spread jam on a piece of toast.

"They should smile more, it might make them less corpse looking." John shrugged, crunching a piece of bacon. The two chattered about random things as they ate.

Later in the evening, as John was finishing a book, he watched a Bloodlet go to Greg's room. Greg left with the Bloodlet, a smile on his face. Must be going to see Master, John thought as he shut his book. He placed it in the stack next to his bed, cover down. It was his sign that he had finished it. He looked to his unfinished stack and saw he only had two, small books left. Need to get more, he made a quick list of ones he wanted in his brain and picked up the next one. It was murder mystery one, he had been reading a lot of them lately, since it was big hit in Sherlock's library. John was glad he liked to read, if he didn't he would have gone mad with boredom in the manor.

...

Sherlock was leaning on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. "He's doing quite well, needs a haircut." Greg shrugged, his hands folded nicely in his lap. Sherlock nodded and pushed off the desk.

"Do you think he's ready?" Sherlock asked, his measured steps taking him to a cabinet. Greg's eyes followed his master across the room.

"I believe so, although, he doesn't trust you much still. He trusts you enough to believe you won't outright kill him but, he is still weary." Greg warned as Sherlock pulled out his bottle of brandy and a glass. He poured some and sipped it as he walked back across the room.

"I see. Are you saying I need to get him to trust me more? Or can I just do it any day now?" Sherlock asked, he sat himself atop his desk and crossed his ankles. Greg thought for a moment before he answered.

"He would be more responsive if you gained more trust, he would do it anyways, seeing as you are his master and he is obedient after the whipping." Greg responded another shrug thrown in. Sherlock tapped his lips, thinking.

"I see." The Noble repeated, his now silvery eyes narrowed as he calculated. He formulated a plan in his head, one that would do quite nicely. "Thank you Greg, now come." Sherlock smirked at his Head Consort and led him to his bedroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**The rating of M will kick in this chapter. **

Sherlock set his plan in motion. That night, he called for John to join him at dinner, only John. The blond came down, his hands wringing. "Hello John." Sherlock greeted, a small smile on his face. John bowed to him and sat. The Bloodlets brought out plates of food and sat them in front of the men. Sherlock waved a hand at John when he saw the other man wasn't eating. John started, then picked up his fork and ate.

"So, John. You've been here a months now and, I feel you are ready to take on your consort duties. Now, if you have a legit reason why you shouldn't I think it is time." Sherlock broke the silence. John's fork dropped to his plate. A look came over his face that Sherlock didn't like so much.

"I-I see." John stammered, his face red. Sherlock smirked at this. "When shall we start?" John asked, turning to look to at his master. Sherlock grinned at the consort and shoved away from his chair. He stalked over to his consort and leaned down next to him.

"Tonight." He purred in the human's ear. John gulped and nodded. Sherlock grinned and stood. "Go and get ready, meet at my room at eight." Sherlock commanded. John stood, bowed and rushed out. Sherlock had a bog grin on his face as he went to his room to prepare.

John was panicking. He was pretty sure he was having a panic attack right now. He shouted for Greg, who came rushing in. "John? What's wrong?" Greg asked as he came in, a piece of bread in his hand. John spun to look at him.

"Tonight." The smaller man whispered. Greg tilted his head, confused. "Tonight." John enunciated the word, his blue eyes bright. Greg's eyes widened, then, a smile cracked his face.

"Brilliant!" Greg laughed, clapping like a child. "Took him long enough!" Greg cried, laughing again. John rolled his eyes at his friend.

"No help." The other man muttered. Greg grinned at him as John sat on his bed. Greg sat in the chair and rolled over to him.

"Let me give you some tips."Greg said. John groaned and fell back. Greg patted his thigh. "Okay so, he'll bite you. He asks the first time but, after that you will just give it to him. Relax during that part. If you fight it, the venom will release and kill you or, put you in a coma so the vampire can drain you." Greg warned him, John shuddered at that. "Once he bites you, your body will slack and he'll use that time to start. It's a good idea because it won't hurt as much." Greg shrugged. "Once he takes his fill, he'll pull back and then do whatever else he wants. He's in control, not you." Greg said, he then said it twice, drilling it into John's brain. Greg stood up and went to his dresser.

"Wear that." Greg tossed him a loose red jumper and black trousers. John changed out and Greg mussed up his longish hair. "There." John looked to the clock and saw it was almost eight. John waved to his friend and went to Sherlock's room, his nerves jumping the whole way. He knocked on the door.

"Enter!" Sherlock called out. John slipped in and shut the door behind him. Sherlock was in a button up shirt and black slacks. He smiled at John as he entered. "Hello John." Sherlock greeted. John bowed to his master. Sherlock stepped over, took John's face in his hands and crushed their lips together. John was startled at the crush of lips. Sherlock's lips were plush and full. His arms looped around Sherlock's shoulders as he leaned into the kiss. Sherlock forced their mouth's open and slipped his tongue into John's mouth. John moaned as he explored. John did the same to Sherlock.

The Noble broke his mouth away and kissed down John's jaw and neck. John's head fell back as he groaned. His fingers were tangled in Sherlock's curls, his nails scratching at his scalp. He felt Sherlock's fangs scrap at his neck, which made him jolt. Sherlock's fingers were at the bottom of his jumper, tugging at it. In one swift jerk, it was up and over, flung into a corner somewhere. John's fingers trailed down Sherlock's jaw and neck to the top button. Sherlock pulled away from his neck to watch the man. His eyes were swirled with blues and greens, lighting them up. John flicked open the first button, placed a kiss, second button, kiss, all the way down. Sherlock purred as John did so. The shirt fell open ,revealing the torso of the Noble. John sucked in a breath and pulled his head back to look.

"Beautiful." He whispered, his blazing blue eyes sweeping to catch every little line. The first time he saw the body of the Noble, he didn't really look, he was focused on sharing a bed with the man. Now, his eyes swept, as did his fingers. They traced down the muscles that rippled under the pale skin. His fingers dipped into each scar and followed their lines. Sherlock's swirling eyes watched the man trace across his body, a smirk tugging at his lips. John looked up to his master, saw the smirk, and caught the thin material of the shirt between his fingers and flung it off.

Sherlock yanked John back into another forceful kiss, walking them back till Sherlock was on his back on the large bed. John was straddling his hips, legs locked into place on either side of the Noble's hips. John leaned back so his weight was on the Noble's hips, he felt the erection underneath him. Sherlock grinned up at him.

"Seems we have an issue here." Sherlock commented, his low voice broken and gruff. John cocked his head. "You're on top, not allowed." Sherlock pointed out, tisking. John cocked and eyebrow at him. Sherlock grinned again, wrapped his arms around John and flipped them over. John landed with thump on his back. "There." Sherlock breathed, sitting up. His cold fingers started to explore John's torso, his nails scratching at random spots, his swirled eyes trailing his fingers as they worked. John's shaky fingers were tugging at Sherlock's trousers, he got the belt undone before Sherlock caught him. "What are you doing?" He asked in his calm voice. John looked up at him, amusement on the Noble;s face.

"What does it look like?" John asked,working at the button. Sherlock shook his head and pulled John's hands away. The human grumbled at him as Sherlock placed his hands at his side. Sherlock wiggled out of his trousers and underwear at the same time and flung them somewhere else.. He then did the same to John. "Better." Sherlock breathed. He settled back onto John, both men groaning as their erections brushed. Sherlock placed soft little kisses along John's jaw, working down to his throat. His tongue and lips worried at spot on his throat, low near his collarbone. He then trailed down, John's fingers were back into his curly hair, working through it.

Sherlock kissed all the way down John's body, from his hairline to his toes. He then came back up and looked down to John, seriousness in his eyes now. "John, I'm going to start, alright? You alright with that?" Sherlock asked. John nodded and tried to calm himself. Somehow, his mind and body became disconnected, his body acting on impulse, not from his brain. He watched Sherlock reached over to the bedside table and pull out a condom and lube. He set the condom down and flicked the cap of the lube open. John shuddered as he heard it. He knew what was to happen, Greg and the Internet told him that. Sherlock spread some on his fingers and looked at John who nodded.

The Noble reached down for John's hole. He found it and poked at it. John felt him poke and it felt weird. Sherlock pressed harder, slipping in a little. John gasped and his muscles clenched. Sherlock looked up at him. "John, relax." He instructed. john took a deep breathed and forced himself to calm down. He nodded again and Sherlock continued. He pushed the finger all the way into John. the human winced as he felt the finger in him. He had to admit, it was one of the weirdest feelings he'd ever felt. Sherlock pushed the finger in and out, loosening John. After a minute or so, he added another. John winced again, he wasn't sure if he really liked this or not. Sherlock began to scissor, making John moan.

After loosening John for about five minutes or so, Sherlock pulled his fingers out. John whimpered at the loss, making Sherlock chuckle. The Noble put the condom on and settled back between John's legs. He looked john in the eyes. "Okay, I'm going to bite you. It will hurt for a moment but really, I do it the first time so you're more focused on that and not the pain you will feel elsewhere. Just, don't start thrashing cause then I will kill you." Sherlock warned, his voice icy. John nodded and calmed himself again. Sherlock seemed to crawl up his body, his cold breath blowing on John, his hairs raising.

"Ready?" Sherlock murmured once he reached John's neck. John breathed out a yes and felt two sharp pricks on his neck. Pain burst from the pricks, his first instinct was to thrash and kick about, to rid himself of the attacker but, his brain told him to calm. It was Sherlock, he was not a threat. John then felt something else wash over him, it sorta felt like when he went through his brief drug phase a teenager, it felt like he was on drugs. Everything looked and sounded like he was in murky water. It felt good, for some reason, he liked this murky water state. He didn't want to leave the murky water, knowing what he would have to face once he was yanked out. He saw two, large hands enter the murky water, breaking it. they latched onto his shoulders and yanked him up. His face broke the surface, his lungs stole air from the sharp air around him, forcing him to crash back into his body.

Sherlock was laying on him, his mouth rimmed in blood. John suddenly felt pain in his ass. He yelped with pain and tried to sit up. Sherlock paused him, forcing him back down. "No, no don't do that, it'll only make it worse." The Noble told him, his voice was weathered. John laid back down and wiggled out form under Sherlock. "You responded differently to me biting you then others." Sherlock muttered as his arm locked around John's waist and tugged him closer to him. His calm eyes shut tight and he was asleep in minutes. john wondered what he meant as he went to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the wait but, my muse was on vacation. Also, thank you all for the support. **

When John stopped responding to Sherlock, the Noble had panicked. He pulled his fangs out of the consort and watched the man carefully. He watched his blue eyes, praying the hazy look would disappear. As he shot into the man, his body pulled taunt over the blonde man, he collapsed onto him. He placed his hands on John's shoulders and yanked up, it seemed to pull him out. John tried to sit, a spark of panic lighting his blue eyes. "No no, don't do that, it'll only make it worse." The Noble muttered, his swirled eyes drifting shut. He heard himself but he forgot what he said as he fell asleep.

Now, it was morning, John was wrapped around his middle, head snuggled into Sherlock's ribs. The Noble ran his slender finger's through the man's growing hair. He curled one of the forming curls around his fingers and let loose, watching them spring back to shape. He had been awakes since the sun splashed red and orange into his room. At first, he had just laid there, thinking back to the night before, how great it felt to finally to have John in his bed like this. How accomplished he felt. He wondered how John felt about last night? He wondered if the consort liked it as much as he did? If he even felt anything after Sherlock bit him.

"You thinking?" John's voice startled Sherlock out of his head. The man was barely awake, his eyes still squinty. Sherlock nodded and ran his hand once more through John's hair before letting go. John rose slowly, stretching out his arms and neck in the process. He rolled his neck as he sat up, pops and cracks filling the quiet air. He cracked his fingers next, followed by wrists then ankles. Sherlock listened to the joints pop and crackle, hearing how his ankles were stubborn to crack. John then paused and winced as he felt the pain for the first time. "Ow, okay, that hurts." He muttered, rubbing at his lower back and such. Sherlock smirked and shrugged.

"So, how are you this morning, John?" Sherlock asked, running a hand through his own curls. John paused and listened to his body, testing each part before answering.

"Alright for what we did last night." He smiled sheepishly and rubbed at the two tiny star marks on his neck. Sherlock's pale cheeks flushed with red and he rubbed at his hair.

"No weird headaches, too terrible aches or anything that would seem off?" Sherlock asked, turning to his consort now. John took inventory on his body once again, feeling each part.

"Nope I don't think so." John replied after a few minutes. Sherlock grinned. John loved to see Sherlock grin, it took years from his face, lines slashed out from his beautiful eyes were the only things that ruined the illusion of a younger Sherlock.

"Perfect. Always have to ask." A grumble made Sherlock pause. John's hands went to his stomach, a blush crawling across his face. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. "Hungry I take it?" He asked, turning to John, a teasing look in his eyes. John nodded. "I can tell." Sherlock grabbed for the land-line phone next to his bed and pressed a button. "Hello yes, please send John's breakfast and mine to my bedroom." He said into the phone. Sherlock hung and rolled back to John. "Breakfast will be here soon." He informed the human. John smirked down at him.

"How soon is soon?" He asked, leaning down on his elbow, their mouths were but a breath away.

"Five minutes." Sherlock informed him. John scoffed.

"Plenty of time." He leaned down to kiss his Master. Sherlock responded at once, his mouth opening and sending his tongue out. John's mouth opened eagerly to his command. The two kissed till a loud knock drug them apart. "Breakfast." John mumbled. Sherlock groaned and rolled off the bed, only to realize he had no clothes on. He grabbed a towel from the ground and wrapped it loosely around his waist. John giggled at him.

The Bloodlet was a willowy boy carrying a large tray. Sherlock pointed to a table and the Bloodlet set it down and back out. Sherlock closed the door behind him and turned to John. "Breakfast?" He waved his hands towards the table in a grand gesture. John wrapped one of the smaller blankets around himself and dropped into a chair, the two ate in comfortable silence.

Xxx

Two weeks past since that morning and John was relatively happy. He was as happy as a consort for a Noble could be, well, he was much happier then the others. He was in Sherlock's bed, something had been happening more and more in the past two weeks. It was late and after their latest activity, Sherlock was curled up next to him, snores coming form the other man. John, for some reason, couldn't sleep. Usually he went right to sleep, their nights tiring him out. He wondered if Sherlock was mad at him for it but, the Noble never said anything about it.

John's fingers were in Sherlock's curls, scratching and running through them as he thought. He thought about how excited Greg was for him, and how he could see sparks of jealousy in the other man's eyes. He thought about how much he was starting to care for the man sleeping next to him, how he was always eager to see him almost each night. It scared him a little bit, what if Sherlock didn't truly like him, just the sex? It was a true fear for him.

A noise from the man next him pulled him out. He saw the pain on his face and John saw his nails were tight on Sherlock's scalp. He pulled his hand out of his hair and curled up next to him. He fell asleep with worries in his brain.


	17. Chapter 17

The first snowfall of the year gave John the urge to build a snowman. The morning after the first snow fell, he was in Sherlock's bed as usual, the Noble reading over a document, John sat next to him, a book in his lap. "Master." John said, looking to the curly haired man. Sherlock looked up, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yes John?" He set the document down and turned to his consort. John placed a finger in his book.

"I uh was wondering if you wanted to build a snowman?" John's fingers twitched. "With uh me." He added. Sherlock blinked at him, a grin slowly dragging across his face. He laughed and placed a hand on John's shoulder.

"Sure. I would love to build a snowman with you. Greg can join us as well." Sherlock said, jumping out of the bed. He went to his closet and ruffled around for a bit. He came back out with his long coat and a shorter coat for John. "Here." He tossed it to the blond man. "That should maybe fit." He shrugged and got dressed quickly. He called for a Bloodlet to fetch Greg. John dressed as well. Greg came to room, dressed and a simple green coat tossed over his clothes.

"Yes?" Greg asked as he entered the room. Sherlock was tying his blue scarf around his neck.

"We're going to build a snowman." John told his friend. Greg grinned.

"Let's go." Sherlock said, leading them out of the room. They walked out of the manor and into the large, snowy garden. John bent down and scooped up some snow into his hands. He smashed it into a ball.

"Perfect snowman building snow." He commented, standing back up. He then tossed the snow clump at Greg, the snow hitting the man in the chest.

"Hey!" Greg cried, swatting at the snow on his chest. He leaned down and scooped some snow up. He aimed and fired, the snow slamming into John's stomach. John stuck his tongue out and a snowball fight began. Sherlock had stayed out of it, watching his consorts fight. A stray snowball hit him low, so he entered the war.

In the end, none of them won. They were all covered in snow, panting, and cold. John ran his numb fingers through his longish hair to yank the snow clumps out. "We still have a snowman to build." He commented, shaking his hair out. Sherlock and Greg groaned at this. "Come on now, this is the whole reason we came out here!" John tried to get them excited about it. Greg jumped up and went over to John.

"What do we do first?" Greg asked. John pointed to the snow.

"We have to make a big snowball first, like giant." He ordered, bending down he rolled up a medium sized snowball. He rolled it along and patted the snow down. Once it got larger, Greg helped. They pushed it through the garden, collecting snow. Sherlock started to make the middle snowball, rolling alongside them.

After an hour and a half, they had a large base and an almost completed middle. Sherlock packed the last bit of snow onto it and set it atop the base. They added snow to keep it in place. They packed it down and shaped the sides so people could still tell it apart. Finally, they worked on the head. They rolled up a small snowball and added to it carefully, making sure not to add too much. Sherlock called for a Bloodlet and demanded a carrot and some pieces of coal, if they had any. The skinny boy came back out with a tray that had a carrot and a small pile of coal.

Greg and John set the coal pieces in place, digging little holes so the coal stayed in place. Sherlock scooped out a hole for the carrot and wedged it in place. He unwound his scarf from his neck and tied it around the snowman. The three men stood back and studied their work. "He has no arms!" John cried, racing towards a tree. He broke off two thin branches and stuck them in his sides. "There, he's perfect." Sherlock and Greg agreed with him.

"I'm cold." Greg commented as they trudged back to the house. They stamped their feet off and wandered to the kitchen. One of the cooks had a tray with tea waiting for them. Sherlock carried it to his study where the three of them sat, chatted and drank tea.

That night, John slept in his room. He watched more snow fall, snowflakes twisting and dancing in the pale light of night. The snowman was outside his window, snow clinging to his stick arms.


End file.
